Chapter 499 I Want It All!
Delia’s POV
I cried out, the sound muffled by the pillow. Full. Way too full. Painfully, perfectly full.
“You take it,” he murmured against my ear, his hot breath washing over my skin as he ground his hips down. “You came here for this. You belong to this.”
“Yes,” I whimpered, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. “Fuck me. Please, Elliot, tear me apart.”
And he did. Hard. Out to the head, right to the brink of slipping out, and then driving back in to the base with the force of a battering ram. The wooden frame of the bed slammed rhythmically against the bedroom wall, a deafening drumbeat that matched the frantic pounding of our hearts. He reached down, grabbed both of my wrists, and pinned them up over my head against the mattress, holding me immobile while he thrust like a man possessed, like he wanted to leave a mark I would feel deep inside my bones hours later when I climbed back into the driver’s seat of my car.
“Say my name,” he grunted, sweat beading on his forehead and dripping down to land on my chest.
“Elliot,” I panted, throwing my head back as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me.
“Again.”
“Elliot! Harder! I want it all!”
He gave it to me without mercy. Long, agonizingly deep strokes that stretched me to my limits, followed by shorter, jackhammer thrusts that rattled my teeth, then pulling all the way back out just to slam back in with devastating precision. I wrapped my legs around his waist, locking my ankles behind his back, meeting every single thrust of his hips, riding the friction. The wet, slapping sound of our bodies colliding filled the small room, thick and obscene.
Growling low in his throat, he suddenly flipped me over onto my stomach, yanking my hips up into the air by my waist, forcing me onto all fours. He didn’t waste a second, plunging back inside me from behind, his large hands gripping my hips so hard I knew bruises would bloom there tomorrow. He fucked me from behind with reckless abandon, his strokes deep and merciless, until my arms gave way beneath me and my face was pressed flat into the rumpled sheet.
“This is what you wanted,” he panted, his chest slamming against my back with every thrust. “Not your husband. Not that pathetic life. This.”
“Yes!” I screamed into the bedding, my mind entirely unspooled.
He reached underneath my body, sliding his thick fingers between my thighs to rub my frantically overstimulated clit in tight, merciless circles. That was the final undoing. I came instantly, clenching around his thick shaft like a fist, screaming into the mattress as my entire body locked up in spasms of pure ecstasy. Hearing my cries, Elliot lost whatever restraint he had left; he buried himself to the hilt inside me, his own body going rigid as he spilled his hot seed deep inside my womb with a guttural groan that sounded like absolute victory.
We stayed like that for a long, quiet moment, tangled in the sheets, his heavy weight pressing me down into the mattress. His cock remained buried inside me, slowly softening as our breathing gradually slowed down to a ragged rhythm. My heart thudded against the floorboards, loud and erratic.
When he finally pulled out of me, I felt the heavy, warm mess leak down my inner thighs. Under any other circumstance, with any other man, I should have felt disgusted, sickened by the raw degradation of it all. But here, in this dark room, I felt terrifyingly, overwhelmingly alive.
“Same time next week,” he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion, as if we had just discussed business over coffee.
“Yes,” I whispered into the dark.
I stood up and dressed with trembling fingers, pulling my clothes back over a body that felt bruised and thoroughly used. I did not kiss him goodbye. I didn’t even look him in the eye as I grabbed my purse. Walking out to my car, I sat behind the steering wheel with my hands locked tight on the leather wrap, my body still pulsing with residual heat and my pulse hammering in my ears.
I was more alive than I had been in months.
I was also hopelessly, irrevocably trapped in a web of my own frantic design. And as I turned the ignition and pulled away from the curb, I already knew, with terrifying certainty, that I would come back for more.
Martha’s POV
I set the table for six because David said family meant family. Katia and Julian. Delia and Noah. And Elliot, because Noah would not walk in without his father, and David would not leave a man sitting in the car.
I used the good plates. I told myself it was manners, but it was also a way to keep my hands busy. Delia had sounded bright on the phone when she said they were coming. But sounding bright was not the same as being fine. I had raised her. I knew the difference.
Katia arrived first. She did not kiss me. She never did.
“Martha,” she greeted me.
“Katia,” I replied.
That was our entire greeting. Julian gave me a single nod. He did not waste words in my house. David came out of the study, and Katia’s face immediately changed. She let him take her hand. She called him Dad. She asked about his knee before she asked about the house. He smiled at her the way he only smiled for her, and I felt that old pinch of jealousy. I had kept Delia close, but David had always kept a soft spot for the daughter who left and came back rich.
“You look well,” David said to her.
“I am well,” Katia replied. “Clara is heavier. Aiden has appointed himself her supervisor.”
David laughed. I added that the baby was a handful, but Katia did not answer me. She answered him instead.